


just like love

by cosmicbees



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Meetings, Flirting, Fluff, Kissing, Love at First Sight, M/M, Making Out, honestly its just two drunk fools meeting at a wedding and making out, they're both horny but also sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 10:47:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21355009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicbees/pseuds/cosmicbees
Summary: shiro and keith meet at a wedding and accidentally fall in loveKeith doesn’t believe in love at first sight.He believes in climate change, science, and if anyone digs hard enough they’ll find that Keith believes in ghosts and aliens, too—anything but love at first sight.But Keith is well into his fourth drink when he sees the love of his life.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 323





	just like love

**Author's Note:**

> howdy! long time no see...
> 
> i come bearing very self-indulgent fluff

Keith doesn’t believe in love at first sight. 

He believes in climate change, science, and if anyone digs hard enough they’ll find that Keith believes in ghosts and aliens, too—anything  _ but _ love at first sight. 

But Keith is well into his fourth drink when he sees the love of his life. 

Tall, with a jawline that’s sharp enough to cut diamonds, the man is smiling into a champagne flute. He’s standing beside the bar, a vision against the dark mahogany wood, dressed in a cream colored suit, one sleeve of which is tucked in and stitched shut just below the right shoulder. 

And yes, Keith may be drunk, but he can recognize how well-tailored the suit is even through the fog of alcohol in his mind. The man’s broad shoulders taper down into a trim waist, and his well-muscled thighs are somehow still visible through the fitted pants. He’s handsome, to put it politely, with his dark hair, colored by little flecks of light and a patch of silvery-white that threatens to fall into his eyes. If Keith is being entirely honest with himself though, he’s fucking stunning.

Keith downs the rest of his drink in four seconds flat, swallowing against the lump where his heart has risen into his throat, and makes his way across the ballroom. He weaves through tables and wedding guests, and nearly trips over a forgotten disposable film camera where it lay on the floor. The man’s eyes burn into Keith as he approaches, and he’s nearly knocked breathless by the intensity of his gaze following him through the crowd.

“Hey,” Keith huffs, steadying himself against the bartop as he reaches his target. He tilts his head back. “Wow...you’re really tall.”

“I’ve been told,” the man laughs, and takes a sip of his champagne. Without missing a beat, he brushes Keith’s awkward introduction aside, and smiles down at him. “How are you?” 

“Drunk,” Keith answers honestly, holding his empty glass up in explanation. “You?” 

“Also drunk,” he agrees, raising his own drink up in a toast and touching it to Keith’s with a little  _ clink _ . 

Keith wants to bottle the feeling in his chest, the effervescence of it making him daring in his drunkenness. “We have a lot in common,” he offers.

“It seems we do,” He’s still smiling at Keith, eyes warm as they crinkle up at the edges. “How’d we end up at the same wedding?”

Keith answers eagerly, “I’m the bride’s cousin.”

“Which bride?” 

“Shit—Acxa,” Keith shakes his head. He’s fuzzy already from the lack of sleep on his red eye flight, the long day in the hot summer sun, and now, blood rich with pink champagne, Keith feels bold. “Can I buy you a drink?” 

“Only if you’ll let me buy you one,” the man laughs again. The sound of it is whimsical and bright, spreading warmth through Keith’s limbs.

“Okay!” Keith leans in, and brushes his hair back from where it’s fallen in front of his eyes. “What’s your name?”

He looks to Keith, eyes wide and glossy, and grins. “Shiro.” 

“ _ Shiro _ ,” the name slips from Keith’s mouth in a sigh, satin smooth against his tongue. 

“Well,” Shiro looks thoughtful for a moment. “Takashi Shirogane, but I’m usually Shiro.” 

Keith bites back a laugh of his own and cocks his head. “I’m usually Keith.”

“Do you wanna dance, Usually Keith?” 

Keith looks closely at the hand that Shiro holds out. It’s  _ big _ , and when Keith accepts, the fingers that close around his own are calloused but warm. “Yeah,” he breathes. 

Shiro tugs Keith onto the dance floor with a grin. The song is already nearly over but the hand that settles hot against Keith’s waist pulls his attention away from the low thump of the bass.

“You’re so big,” Keith mumbles, thumbing at the back collar of Shiro’s suit jacket. 

“Mmm?” Shiro hums. The sound is warm as it resonates through his chest, and Keith resists the sudden urge to lean in close and press his ear to Shiro’s sternum. 

Instead, Keith nods, and leans back. “Huge,” he affirms. The song fades out for a brief moment, before another begins, faster this time. The change in tempo throws Keith off, and he trips over himself, stumbling backwards just as Shiro’s arm wraps around him, his fingers sprawling wide across Keith’s lower back to catch him. 

“A good thing, I hope?” Shiro asks, steadying Keith with a firm hand.

Keith nods fervently, letting Shiro pull him in closer while he tightens his grip on Shiro’s shoulders for balance, trying to hold himself steady as the room spins around him. 

Shiro’s voice is smooth as honey, sticky and sweet when he speaks. It sparks something low in Keith when Shiro’s mouth brushes the shell of his ear. “Tell me about yourself, Usually Keith.” 

“I’m a grad student,” Keith breathes, focusing in on the brush of Shiro’s chest against his own, and doing his best to follow Shiro’s lead without breaking eye contact. “I study engineering down in the city.”

“Me too,” Shiro says, cocking his head as his lips tilt up at the edges.

Shock washes over Keith, and he blinks up at Shiro. “You’re in school too?” 

“No,” Shiro’s laugh is quiet. “No, but I live in the city, too. I’m a lawyer.” 

“Oh,” Keith gnaws on the corner of his lip–admittedly, he knows very little about practicing law outside of Lance’s biweekly rewatch of Legally Blonde. “My roommate loves Legally Blonde.”

“Elle Woods is the only reason I got through law school.” 

Shiro says it with such a straight face that Keith can’t help but laugh brightly. “Did you also go to Harvard to chase the man of your dreams.” 

There’s a beat of silence between them before Shiro answers, “Yale, actually.” 

“And your Warner?” 

“He was a Warner, absolutely,” the corner of Shiro’s mouth ticks up at the edge, but there’s something sad in his eyes. “Couldn’t stand to see me chasing my own dreams.” 

Keith tucks a hand under the lapel of Shiro’s suit jacket just to feel the steady beat of his heart beneath the fabric. “Did you ever find your Emmett?” 

Shiro shakes his head, but just as he opens his mouth to respond a gentle voice interrupts them. 

“Shiro,” a slim hand settles on Shiro’s arm. Allura stands just beside him, a vision in blush pink with a soft smile on her face, eyes flickering between Shiro and Keith. “We’re getting ready to cut cake soon.” 

“Oh!” Shiro steps back from Keith, and for a moment Keith mourns the loss while he watches the silent exchange between Shiro and the bride–Allura looks to Keith, and then to Shiro before cocking an eyebrow. It would be funny if Keith weren’t the subject of the silent conversation between the two of them, because Shiro suddenly looks nervous. “Allura, this is Keith. Keith, this is Allura.”   
“I didn’t know you were bringing a date tonight, Takashi.” Allura remarks, pulling away from Shiro to hold a hand out to Keith. There’s a knowing look in her eyes when she asks, “How long have you two been together?” 

“About ten minutes,” Keith answers, taking her hand eagerly. Her grip is firm, but polite, and she lets out a little snort of laughter. “I’m Acxa’s cousin.”

“I thought as much,” Allura’s voice grows fond, “you look like her...you have the same eyes.” 

“She always had better eyelashes,” Keith says, “but I got the good eyebrows.” 

Allura smiles at Keith before turning to Shiro, who has been watching the exchange quietly and rubbing a nervous hand across the back of his neck. “I like him.” She leans in close to whisper something in Shiro’s ear that turns him scarlet from the tips of his ears, down to where his shirt collar covers his skin, before sweeping away in a cloud of tulle and lace. 

Keith feels wobbly where he stands, watching the room tilt on its axis around Allura’s retreating figure. He holds his hand out for Shiro, and mutters a quiet, “I think I need to sit down for a minute.” 

“Me too,” Shiro agrees, letting Keith lead him to an empty table on the edge of the dance floor.

Scooting his chair close to Shiro’s, near enough that their knees brush, Keith says, “So you’re a lawyer?”

“Yeah,” Shiro answers after a moment of thoughtfulness, “I’m 37, and I’m head of the legal department at AlteaCo. I’ve known Allura since I was a freshman in college.” 

Keith nods, but before he can ask anything more Shiro interjects, “you said you’re Acxa’s cousin? Does that mean you’re also, you kn—“

“Yeah, I’m Galra,” Keith waves a hand dismissively at the way that Shiro looks chagrined. “Or, well, half-Galra. My dad is human.” 

“Oh wow,” Shiro breathes the words. “That’s incredible.” 

“It’s not that big of a deal.” It’s Keith’s turn to blush, ducking his head so that Shiro can’t see the little smile creeping across his face. 

“There just aren’t many Galra on earth,” Shiro bites at his bottom lip thoughtfully. “How did your parents meet?”

Keith has heard the story enough times that he could probably recite it word for word in his sleep, but there’s something about the way that Shiro is so earnestly enraptured by the idea of his family history that Keith finds charming. “Mom says it was a piloting accident but my dad likes to joke about how he thought an angel fell from heaven when he found her in the desert.” 

“They’re still together, yeah?” 

“Twenty six years and counting,” Keith nods. 

Shiro lets out a low whistle, and leans in. “Twenty six years, huh? That makes you…” 

“Twenty four,” Keith says. Suddenly self conscious, he tilts his chin up defiantly. A smile breaks out across Shiro’s face as he meets Keith’s gaze, recognizing the challenge. With that, the tension in Keith’s shoulders melts away with the warmth in Shiro’s eyes, and he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in as he shakes his head.

“You’re incredible,” Shiro’s laugh comes out as a sigh “just...amazing.” 

Keith lets Shiro draw him deeper into conversation. Shiro is clever–witty and funny in a way that makes Keith’s ribs ache with laughter while they work their way through another glass of champagne that Keith swipes from the nearby bar. 

By the time that the music fades into silence, and everyone’s attention shifts to the brides and their wedding cake, Keith is sitting close enough to Shiro that their thighs are pressed together beneath the table. 

The brides say a quick thank you, each taking a turn with the microphone that the DJ hands to them before they turn to the cake. Acxa’s hand wraps around Allura’s, and together they guide the blade through the lowermost tier of the cake.

The room is quiet, the gathered crowd watching quietly as the brides each spoon little pieces of cake into one another’s mouths. Someone on the other side of the ballroom lets out a celebratory shout, and Acxa wraps an arm around Allura’s waist, pulling her in for a kiss before leaning back to look lovingly down at her wife. They’re both beaming, seemingly oblivious to the world around them.

Keith leans in close to Shiro, and whispers, “I never see Acxa smile as much as she does when she’s with Allura.” 

Allura says a quick thank you into a microphone before letting Acxa sweep her back on to the dancefloor, their cake slices forgotten in favor of a slow dance.

Shiro nods, eyes moving between the brides and Keith. “Allura hasn’t shut up about her since the day they met.” He rolls his eyes, but Shiro’s expression is fond as he settles his gaze on Keith. 

The crowd disperses, trickling back to their tables and to the corners of the dancefloor, while a few still linger around the table with the cake, collecting slices as the attendants plate them. Keith settles his palm on Shiro’s thigh, using the mass of solid muscle beneath his fingertips to steady himself as he leans in close to Shiro. “Can we dance more?” 

Shiro chuckles, just a little bit breathless, and nods, covering Keith’s hand with his own and lacing their fingers together as he pulls Keith to his feet. Keith doesn’t like dancing, but he wants to feel Shiro’s hand burning hot against his waist again. 

“Can we get cake while we’re at it?” The grin on Shiro’s face is just a little bit dopey, and Keith’s heart squeezes tight in his chest at the sight. 

Keith buries his face in Shiro’s chest to try and hide the laughter that contorts his features. “Is that even a question?” 

They barely make their way through the first song without tripping over their own feet and one another. Giggling the entire time, Shiro does his best to keep them on beat; they’re equally hopeless, with all sense of rhythm lost to their drunkenness. 

Keith finally stumbles over to the sidelines, Shiro trailing behind him by only a few steps. Pieces of cake on tiny china plates blanket the serving table, and Keith turns to Shiro with wide eyes. “Which one do you want?”

Shiro looks thoughtful, stepping close to examine the spread. The slices of cake are all nearly identical, but Shiro spends a long moment assessing them before selecting one from the middle of the table with a delicate pink rose piped onto the side in frosting. Keith snatches up the one beside it, immediately digging in with the tiny fork. 

Shiro lets out a contented noise when they settle back down at their table from before, eyes fluttering shut for just a moment as he devours the treat. It’s captivating to see him so content–a little smile toying with the corners of his lips, and Keith wastes no time in polishing off his own piece of cake, eyes fixed to Shiro the entire time. When Shiro turns his attention back to Keith, Keith’s plate is already pushed to the side. 

“So…” Shiro’s thought is cut short by Keith reaching up to thumb at a little smudge of vanilla frosting at the corner of Shiro’s mouth. 

Shiro watches him with curious eyes as Keith holds his hand up to his mouth to clean the frosting from his fingertip. Keith smirks up at Shiro with a knowing look. “So?”

“Do you want to get out of here?” Shiro drops his voice low, and cocks his head towards the double doors that lead out of the ballroom. 

Keith’s mouth goes dry, but he nods anyway. “I have a room upstairs.” 

“Yeah? I’m a few blocks away…” Shiro murmurs. His eyes don’t leave Keith’s face, lingering on his lips for a moment before continuing, “different hotel.” 

“They accidentally gave me a king bed.” Keith responds, voice hardly above a whisper. “if you want to stay.” 

Shiro leans in, closer still. “I think I still owe you that drink from earlier, don’t I?”

“Room service delivers,” Keith reaches out for Shiro, wrapping his hand up in his own.

A wide grin breaks out across Shiro’s face, and he lets Keith tug him out of the ballroom, and towards the lobby. The little elevator nook is quiet, as private as it can be when it’s empty save for the two of them. Keith fumbles blindly for the elevator button as Shiro backs him up against a wall; a giggle slips out of him, involuntary in its abruptness as he tilts his chin up for Shiro. 

Asking as much as expecting, Keith is still caught off guard when Shiro catches his mouth in a kiss. It's sweet and soft, just a press of their lips together before Shiro pulls away again, and Keith leans forward, chasing Shiro for another.

The second kiss knocks Keith breathless. Shiro's lips are warm against his, and Keith goes boneless under Shiro's touch when he fits his hand against the curve of Keith's neck. It's easy for Keith to forget himself like this, the world around him fading into darkness as his focus narrows in on the heat of Shiro's body through crisp cotton shirts.

Keith doesn't notice the little  _ ding!  _ of the elevator until Shiro breaks away, his mouth parted on a sigh. “Come on,” Shiro breathes into the space between them, pulling Keith into the otherwise empty elevator.

Punching the button for the third floor, Keith turns back to Shiro before the elevator doors even slide shut. Cradling Shiro’s face into his hands, Keith tilts his head down so that their eyes are locked.

Shiro blinks slowly, lashes full and dark against his skin. Something impulsive in Keith wants to kiss Shiro along the cut of his cheekbones, to press his lips against the smooth skin there. He imagines the flutter of Shiro’s eyes. Maybe Shiro would laugh, or pull Keith closer to kiss him properly; maybe he’d lend himself to Keith’s administrations, and would let Keith press kisses to each side of his face, the tip of his nose and temples, before slowly working his way down to Shiro’s mouth.

There are so many things about Shiro that Keith doesn’t know...it almost surprises him how much he  _ wants _ to know about the man.

Keith is taken by him. 

“What’s on your mind?” Shiro asks as Keith presses his thumb into the divot below Shiro’s lip. 

Keith answers candidly, unflinchingly. “You.” 

Shiro laughs brightly, and Keith can’t hold back the grin that splits across his face as the elevator doors slide open behind him. Shiro follows him to where his room is tucked into the corner at the far end of the hallway. Keith’s hotel room is private despite its openness, with two walls worth of windows and an unobstructed view of the lush green mountains outside. 

The king bed and the open countryside had seemed so lonely earlier in the afternoon light, with long shadows cast across the carpet by the trees outside his window. But now, with Shiro kicking his shoes off just inside the doorway, watching quietly as Keith pads across the room to flick on the bedside lamp, it doesn’t seem so empty. The light’s golden glow pushes the cool blue shadows to the farthest corners of the room, and they seem to melt into nothingness as Shiro moves towards him. 

Keith hopes the pounding of his heart isn’t audible in the silence, and that the way he swallows nervously isn’t too obvious when he ducks his head. All of his bravery from a few minutes before is gone now, with a stranger in his hotel room watching him with wary eyes as he settles on the edge of the massive bed. 

Shiro reaches out to him, hooking a finger into Keith’s belt loop to pull him in close, spreading his knees to accommodate him. Keith slots into Shiro’s space easily, and Shiro’s hand settles on his hip.

“Hi,” Keith breathes.

Shiro’s mouth quirks up at the corner. “Hey.” 

Keith steadies himself with a hand on Shiro’s shoulder. “Still okay?” 

Shiro nods wordlessly, scooting back to prop himself against the bed’s headboard. He pats his thigh in invitation, an action that Keith recognizes easily. The tilt of Shiro’s head is earnest, and Keith’s mouth goes dry. 

“Do you want something to drink?” Keith asks quietly, “I can still call room service.” 

Shiro murmurs an affirmation at the same time that he reaches out for Keith again, pulling him in with a tug to the front of his shirt. Keith goes easily, following Shiro’s guidance and clambering atop him, knees pressed into the mattress on either side of his thighs and palms flat against the headboard.

“Nice to see you here,” Shiro smirks up at him. 

Keith rolls his eyes, and leans in close. “Ha ha.”

With hardly a breath between them, Shiro closes what little distance remains, capturing Keith’s mouth in another kiss. Where Shiro was polite before, closed mouth though intentional in the hotel lobby, his kiss is filled with heat this time. 

He bites his way into Keith’s mouth and there’s a brief moment where Keith thinks he could stay like this forever–with a hot hand pressed tight to his waist, a hungry mouth against his own, and Shiro beneath him, solid and  _ huge _ . 

Before Keith can even savor the taste of cake and vanilla icing on Shiro’s tongue, Shiro pulls away again. The sound that slips out of Keith is unflattering–half dissatisfaction and half pleading in the back of his throat. 

“Didn’t you want to order something?” Shiro murmurs, swiping his thumb across Keith’s bottom lip. 

“ _ Fuck _ . Yeah,” Keith nods, letting one hand fall down to Shiro’s shoulder, using the leverage to steady himself as he reaches over, grabbing at the corded phone on the bedside table. 

Keith can hardly focus on the voice on the other end of the line, maybe a bit too polite when they answer, because Shiro squeezes tight on Keith’s waist, thumb pressing just above the cut of his hip bone. It takes every ounce of effort left in his body to order a bottle of champagne—“yeah, whatever you’ve got”—when Shiro presses his lips to the pulse in Keith’s neck, teeth scraping across the delicate skin there until goosebumps overtake Keith’s body. 

Shiro’s low chuckle at the physical response is smoky, dark and rich, and Keith has to slap his hand against the phone’s mouthpiece, holding back a sigh. 

“Hey!” Keith hisses when he fumbles the phone back onto the receiver. There’s no real heat to the words. Instead, there’s a touch of affection. “What are you doing?” 

“You’re beautiful,” Shiro answers, breath warm against the underside of Keith’s jaw. He drags his hand up Keith’s waist, fingers ghosting between flesh and fabric as Shiro brushes his palm across Keith’s chest. “Can’t keep my hands off of you.” 

Keith wants to laugh. “You’re one to talk,” he says, brushing Shiro’s bangs out of his eyes, and leaning in to examine the sharp angle of his jaw, the strip of pink scarring that settles across the bridge of his nose, and cool slate-grey eyes. Once again, Keith thinks that he could spend forever looking at Shiro, drinking in the dimple on the right side of his mouth that settles deep into his cheek when he looks at Keith. He wants to press his lips to the faint little lines between Shiro’s brows, or to the spot where the corners of his eyes crease up when he laughs. 

They’re little things about Shiro, signs of a life well-lived and which Keith knows next to nothing about, but they push him forward. Closer to Shiro, and closer to the brink of something he doesn’t want to turn back from. 

Shiro’s eyes are searching Keith’s face, the lines between his eyebrows growing a bit more pronounced as his gaze settles on Keith’s mouth.

Keith smooths his thumb over the spot, voice soft when he asks, “What are you thinking about?” 

“I’d really like to kiss you again.” 

Keith’s breath catches in his chest at the admission. It isn’t surprising, but to hear it spoken so plainly is still enough to make him want more. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment before pressing, “what’s stopping you?” 

Shiro’s mouth twitches, the dimple on his left cheek deepening with the movement. “I don’t want to get ahead of myself.” 

“What else would you do,” Keith licks his lips, “if you weren’t holding back?”

Shiro’s voice drops low, with a warning in his words. “ _ Keith. _ ” 

“Just out of curiosity,” Keith insists, dropping his hand to Shiro’s chest, fingers drumming lightly against his sternum.

“I want to kiss you,” Shiro repeats stubbornly, eyes twinkling.

“I’d like that.” Keith finally huffs, settling back on his heels. “I want to kiss you again Shiro. And again, and again, and again until you’re the only thing I can taste. Then again, because I don’t want to remember what my mouth feels like without you on it.”

Shiro breathes a response that Keith can’t make out over the pounding of his heart in his ears. There’s still alcohol in his blood, dragging impulsivity and honesty along with it. 

“I want to know what you feel like pressed against every inch of my body so that I can memorize the feeling of your fingers against my skin.” Keith feels bold when Shiro’s hand twitches at the words, moving to the small of his back, and he tilts his chin up, head held high as he pushes forward. “I wanna make you laugh again so that I know what that kind of happiness tastes like on my tongue.”   
“Keith–fuck,” Shiro leans his head back against the headboard, letting out a shuddering sigh. “Where is this coming from?.” 

“I’m just being honest,” Keith shrugs, rubbing his hands across his thighs. There’s a spell of silence before Shiro speaks. 

“I’d like to kiss you again,” Shiro reaffirms, “I’d kiss you as many times as you want, until I can’t feel my mouth anymore, or until I can’t breathe–whichever comes first.” 

Keith nods, focusing on the feeling of Shiro’s thumb rubbing circles into his skin, tucked in between the fabric of his shirt and his body. 

“You’re beautiful, Keith,” Shiro says, blinking up at him. “I’d really like it if I cou–” 

Sharp rapping on the door cuts Shiro off, and it takes a long, disorienting moment for Keith to realize that it’s likely their room service. He scrambles off the bed, fumbling for his wallet and opens the door just wide enough to thank the runner, shove a crumpled ten dollar bill into her hand, and grab the ice bucket in exchange. 

“What were you saying?” Keith spins on his heel as he turns back to Shiro, arm wrapped around the ice bucket and champagne.

Shiro appraises him before standing up and crossing the room, taking the two little champagne glasses out of Keith’s other hand. “I’d really like to take you out sometime, since we both live in the city.” 

“ _ Oh, _ ” Keith’s heart flutters in his chest.

“On a proper date,” Shiro continues before Keith can say anything else. “If that’s okay with you. Out to dinner or something–a movie if you want, whatev–” 

“Shiro,” Keith murmurs, but he can’t seem to get a word in edgewise.

“You’re really great Keith,” Shiro suddenly looks nervous with his eyes cast to the floor. “You’re brilliant, and beautiful, and I’d really like to get to know you.” 

“ _ Shiro _ ,” Keith says his name again, gentler this time as he reaches up to cup Shiro’s cheek with his free hand. Shiro’s eyes meet his own, and Keith can’t hold back the little smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Of course.” 

“Yeah?” A puff of disbelieving laughter fighting its way out of Shiro.

Keith nods. “Yeah.” 

“Okay,” Shiro laughs again. It's a silly almost-giggle that brightens the space between them. “Excellent.”

Keith takes another moment to appreciate the crow’s feet that gather at the corners of Shiro’s eyes, and the little divot of his dimple before he huffs out a laugh of his own. “It’s stupid,” he mumbles, stroking his fingers across the dimple on Shiro’s cheek. 

“What is?” 

“Can’t believe that we’ve never met before tonight,” Keith lifts himself up on to his tiptoes and presses a gentle kiss to Shiro’s forehead.

Shiro’s eyes flutter closed at the touch of Keith’s lips, and a hum resonates through his chest. “We’ve got all the time in the world now.” 

“We do,” Keith agrees, fiddling with the point of Shiro’s collar. “So, where do you want to start?”

For a moment Keith thinks that Shiro’s about to kiss him when he leans forward, but he reaches past Keith instead to set the glass flutes down on the desk behind him. “Let’s start with the champagne.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Keith lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in until Shiro steps back, shrugging out of his suit jacket and tossing it over the back of a chair. He focuses on loosening the cage around the cork of the bottle, determinedly ignoring the way that a little groan punches out of Shiro’s chest when he loosens his tie, tugging it up and over his head before throwing it over to where his jacket lay.

The  _ pop! _ of the cork draws Shiro’s attention, and when he turns back to Keith, the first few buttons of his dress shirt are undone. With the shirt collar splayed open, Keith’s eyes can follow the golden-tan skin of Shiro’s neck down to a rich dusting of salt-and-pepper hair across his chest. 

Keith’s mouth goes dry at the sight, and his first instinct is to draw the bottle in his hands up to his lips. He takes a generous swig, bubbles rising high in his throat, and almost coughs it back up when a look of surprise crosses Shiro’s face. 

“No cups?” Shiro asks, reaching for the bottle in Keith’s hands. 

Keith holds it out to him, wiping the champagne from his lips with the back of his hand and shrugs. “They seemed unnecessary.”

Shiro takes a drink and turns back to the bed, setting the bottle on the nightstand and looking over his shoulder at Keith. He holds his hand out in invitation, and Keith steps forward on wobbly legs.

“I still want to kiss you,” Shiro admits quietly, tugging Keith in close, and settling his palm on the side of Keith’s neck. 

“Okay,” Keith breathes, tilting his head up as Shiro’s thumb strokes across the edge of his jaw. 

Shiro watches him for a reaction as he leans down, just a breath away from Keith. “Okay.” 

Keith closes the distance this time, capturing Shiro in a heated kiss. His lips taste of champagne, still sharp around the edges, and Keith wants to keep the feeling of sweet effervescence where it gathers on his tongue and in his fingertips as they card through the short hair on Shiro’s nape. The sensation is bright and crisp in all the right ways, and Keith moves to cradle Shiro’s face in his hands. 

Shiro tugs them down to the bed, and it's clumsy at best. Keith stumbles over Shiro in the process, breaking the kiss as he bounces down onto the mattress with a laugh. 

“Come here,” Shiro murmurs, turning his head to kiss Keith where they lay. It’s exploratory, sweet and soft as Shiro licks into Keith’s mouth, and warmth curls deep in Keith’s gut, coiled up heavy at the base of his spine. 

Keith moves so that he can throw his leg over Shiro’s waist, settling down in his lap without ever breaking the kiss, and Shiro sighs into it, trying to draw Keith in closer with a hand between his shoulder blades. Keith doesn’t think he’s ever been kissed like this–with warmth and desire and so much intention that it aches in his bones.

“Mmm–hang on,” Keith’s words are muffled against Shiro’s lips before he pulls away, grabbing blindly for the bottle of champagne on the table beside him. He sits up, and Shiro watches Keith keenly as he brings the bottle up to his mouth.

Maybe Keith teases Shiro a bit, keeping his eyes locked on Shiro’s as he looks at him over the top of the bottle, his lips pressed to the mouth of it. Eyebrow cocked at Keith, Shiro hauls himself up so that he’s upright, chest against Keith’s while Keith takes a swig of champagne. 

A stray drop lingers on the swell of Keith’s lip, but before he can reach up to wipe it away, Shiro swoops in for another kiss, biting at Keith’s bottom lip and soothing the sting with a swipe of his tongue. He cleans the champagne from Keith’s lips, and relishes the taste of it on Keith’s tongue, with his arm wrapped around Keith’s back, holding the two of them flush to one another in the bed. 

Keith uses his free hand to clumsily toy with the buttons on Shiro’s shirt, managing to unbutton two of them before Shiro breaks away so that Keith can reach between them to finish his task. Tugging the fabric down Shiro’s shoulders, Keith watches as he shucks it to the side, crumpling it on the floor beside the bed.

Keith’s laughter borders on feral–delighted as he runs his hand across Shiro’s collarbones and down the expanse of his abs, fingers running through the coarse hair on his chest that leads down past his navel. Shiro is a mass of well-defined muscle that Keith could have only dreamed of beneath the suit he was wearing. Keith wants to trace the shape of Shiro’s broad shoulders and chiseled muscles with his mouth.

After a moment, Shiro reaches out for the bottle, drinking his fill of it before setting it aside again. He moves to fiddle with the topmost button of Keith’s shirt, toying with it for a moment before it pops free, hand falling to the next button, and the next, until Keith’s shirt is splayed open. With a contented sigh, Shiro’s hand drifts down Keith’s sternum, stopping long enough for him to thumb over Keith’s nipples.

“I thought you wanted to kiss me first,” Keith teases, leaning into the touch and swiping the champagne from the nightstand. It’s nearly half-empty already, and warmth buzzes through Keith’s veins as he drinks from it. “Weren’t you going to wine and dine me before you let yourself get carried away?”

Shiro kisses the words from Keith’s lips, fingers wrapping around the bottle between them as he tugs it away from Keith. “That’s still my plan,” Shiro quips, holding the bottle up in a silly little salute before he takes a swig. 

Keith was already drunk when he stumbled into his hotel room, but the disorienting drag of alcohol in his brain grows stronger with every sip of champagne and every touch of Shiro’s lips to his own. Heavy-limbed and hazy-minded, Keith pulls his arms from his shirt, discarding it with Shiro’s at the edge of the bed. “What’s the rest of your plan?” 

“Mmm,” Shiro hums, appraising him over the mouth of the bottle. “Right now I’m enjoying the view.” 

Grabbing the champagne from Shiro’s hands, Keith takes a swig and leans in to press a wet kiss to Shiro’s mouth. With one hand on Shiro’s chest, and the other holding the now nearly-empty bottle off to the side, Keith leans in to murmur into Shiro’s ear. “That’s a good start.”

A sigh slips out of Shiro as Keith draws back, handing the champagne to Shiro and watching as he polishes it off. What can only be described as a giggle slips out of Keith as he watches Shiro’s movements–the bob of his throat and the little grimace he bites back when he pulls the bottle away from his mouth.

Shiro laughs when Keith captures him in another kiss, both of his hands pressed to the side of Shiro’s face, holding him in place as he licks into Shiro’s mouth. What they’re doing is graceless and messy, with too much teeth and tongue and roving hands.

When Shiro’s hand moves to Keith’s ass, Keith has to choke back the groan that threatens to spill out of him. Shiro laugh’s darkly, giving a squeeze before settling his touch on the small of Keith’s back instead.

“Couldn’t take my eyes off of you,” Shiro admits, drinking Keith in with another open-mouth kiss before moving his mouth down, peppering Keith’s face with kisses between his words. “Still can’t–you’ve been driving me crazy all night.”

Shiro presses a kiss to the underside of Keith’s jaw, and Keith jolts back at the touch, barking out a sharp laugh at the feeling. 

Shiro cocks an eyebrow, and heat rises in Keith’s cheeks. “‘M ticklish,” Keith offers as explanation, scrubbing his hand across his face in the hope that it will hide the color there. 

A breath slips out of Shiro, part surprise and part laughter, and his eyes soften as he tilts Keith’s head to the side with his hand, leaning in to ghost his lips across Keith’s jawline again. The warmth of his breath sends chills skittering across Keith’s skin, but Shiro chases them away with a wet press of his mouth to the sensitive skin behind Keith’s ear. 

Keith giggles at that, savoring the curve of Shiro’s lips as he smiles into Keith’s skin, before dragging his teeth down the column of Keith’s throat, settling with an open-mouthed kiss just above Keith’s collarbone. 

Keith wants to grind down against Shiro just to feel the warmth of his body even closer to his own. Wants to do it just to find out what the faint outline of Shiro’s cock feels like against his ass, even through the clothing between them. There’s a lot of things Keith wants to do, but Shiro’s fingers are in his hair, tugging his head back until he’s arching into Shiro’s mouth as he makes his way down Keith’s sternum. 

“Shiro,” Keith is breathless, tangling his fingers in Shiro’s bangs and pulling just enough that Shiro is looking up at him through long lashes. “Kiss me.” 

It’s needy in a way that Keith isn’t proud of. Just a bitten-off whine and a plea that rolls off his tongue, only to be swept away by Shiro capturing his lips a moment later. 

Shiro kisses him hard and deep, taking all that he can get from Keith. There’s desperation in the way that Shiro bites into his mouth, almost as much there is in the way that Keith holds Shiro close with a hand pressed to the back of his neck. And maybe the kiss is a bit inelegant, born from drunkenness and loneliness, but Keith can’t remember a time that he’s ever been kissed so thoroughly. 

Keith is panting and dazed when he finally draws back. There’s a charm to the muss of Shiro’s hair, the spit-slick sheen on his lips, the way he’s looking at Keith with a dopey little grin that makes those lines around his eyes reappear again. Keith follows the impulse from earlier and leans in to press a kiss to the crow's feet on Shiro’s face.

“Keith,” Shiro laughs, turning his head to the side and ducking out of Keith’s grasp. “What are you doing?” 

“I wanna kiss you,” Keith mutters, holding Shiro’s face in his hands to guide him back. 

“Well, my mouth is down here,” Shiro’s tone is teasing as he tilts his chin up.

“No,” Keith huffs, and stubbornly kisses the other side of Shiro’s face. “I wanna kiss all of you.” 

Keith’s world suddenly turns upside down, the room spinning around him as he’s flipped onto his back, bouncing against the mattress as Shiro clambers over him.

“All of me?” Shiro grins from where he’s now perched atop Keith, a reverse of their positions from a moment before. 

Keith nods, too dumbstruck by Shiro’s quick maneuvering to find words. 

“That can be arranged,” Shiro kisses Keith again. It’s quick and easy, with laughter on their lips, and Keith drags him down before he can pull away, hooking his heel around Shiro’s back. 

Everything slows down then, the seconds stretching long and quiet between them. Keith’s limbs are heavy with champagne, and now that he’s laid out flat on his back, he lets his eyes flutter closed, turning his head to the side.

“Stay,” Keith murmurs against Shiro’s cheek. 

Shiro hums, pressing closer to Keith, tucking his nose into the space beside Keith’s ear. “How long?” 

Keith doesn’t speak the words that are on the tip of his tongue. It would be too much, too soon. Instead he sighs, “stay the night.” 

“Yeah,” Shiro lets out a breathy chuckle and swoops in to kiss Keith again before rolling away and sprawling out beside him on the bed. “Okay.” 

Keith feels overwhelmingly self conscious. He turns to his side so that he can face Shiro, tucking one hand between his head and the pillow, and draws his knees up, suddenly feeling small in the king-sized bed. “If you want to.”

Shiro turns his head to meet Keith’s gaze, a soft smile on his face as he reaches out to brush his knuckles across Keith’s face. “I’d love to.”

Keith lets out a weak laugh, and laces their fingers together for a moment, squeezing tight once before he lets go. 

There’s a spell of silence, the glow of light from the bedside lamp behind Shiro casting a halo around him. It’s so blinding that, for just a moment, Keith wills himself to believe that the light is emanating from Shiro himself.

Shiro watches Keith, blinking slowly and licking his lips before he speaks. “Are you okay?” 

Keith ekes out a little smile, scrubbing a lazy hand across his face. “‘M just tired.” 

Shiro brushes Keith’s hair from in front of his eyes, tucking it behind Keith’s ear. Keith’s eyes drift closed at the touch, but he can still hear Shiro’s quiet response. “Me too.” 

“I think it’s the champagne,” Keith hums. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth.

“Are you already falling asleep?” Shiro’s laugh is gentle, but Keith can still feel it reverberating through the mattress. 

Keith cracks his eyes open defiantly. “Maybe.” 

He can still make out Shiro’s faint smile, even through the haze of exhaustion, and he wants to bottle the warmth that blooms in his chest at the sight. It’s silly to already be so attached to the stranger in his bed, but it doesn’t feel wrong as he watches Shiro reach for the lamp. 

With a  _ click _ they’re thrown into darkness, moonbeams through the windows replacing Shiro’s crown of light. It’s peaceful here, quiet and warm in the cool blue starlight that overtakes them.

“Hey, Keith?” Shiro murmurs, waiting for Keith’s groggy acknowledgment before he continues. “Thanks for dancing with me tonight.” 

“Thanks for drinking champagne with me.” Keith replies. The words are slurred, and barely coherent through his exhaustion, but Shiro rewards him with a quiet chuckle anyway.

Keith doesn’t believe in love at first sight, but, as sleep overtakes him, he thinks he might believe in something close to it.

**Author's Note:**

> can u believe that at their wedding they have to admit they met at someone else's wedding?? embarrassing......
> 
> mountains of love to [sarah](https://twitter.com/ailurea), [blue](https://twitter.com/sugarcubeshiro), and [liz](https://twitter.com/disloyalpunk) for holding my hand and cheerleading.
> 
> come say hey @cosmicbeebees on [twitter](https://twitter.com/cosmicbeebees)


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